


Silk, Velvet, Feathers, Furs

by breathtaken



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Author's Favorite, Canon Era, Double Penetration, Episode: s01e07 A Rebellious Woman, Glove Kink, Multi, Sensation Play, Threesome - F/M/M, kink bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-29
Updated: 2014-03-29
Packaged: 2018-01-17 10:32:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1384309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breathtaken/pseuds/breathtaken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Ninon looks up at him, something challenging in her eyes that he hopes isn't quite crossing over into mockery. "For someone who readily agreed to something so scandalous, monsieur, you're proving decidedly reticent."</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Aramis smiles smugly up from where he's kneeling between Ninon's spread thighs, in a way that Athos finds distinctly infuriating. "Yes, come on, Athos, you're letting the side down."</i>
</p><p>Which side is that?<i> Athos thinks, and </i>I was trying to pretend you're not here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silk, Velvet, Feathers, Furs

**Author's Note:**

> Set during an alternate Episode 1x07, in which Athos and Aramis' evening at Ninon's isn't interrupted by the Red Guards.
> 
> Kink Bingo fill: Silk, velvet, feathers, furs.

Athos has been weak. _Weak, foolish, and cunt-struck_ , he thinks, mentally listing all his faults; and he's let this woman under his skin, where nobody should be able to reach.

He's dined with her, drunk her wine, and been taken in by her bold flattery, and now here he is – on her bed, no less, propped up on a pile of pillows and furs with her head heavy in his lap, trying to will away his erection. Trying further to ignore the other man between her legs, whose apparently infamous powers of seduction seem in practice merely to involve tickling her inner thighs with the feather on his hat.

The whole scene _is_ undeniably erotic. Not the presence of his comrade, that is, nor the feather; but the play of candlelight on Ninon's flawless ivory skin, not a stitch of clothing left on her, like looking at a Greek statue made flesh. The way she giggles and squirms away from the tickle of the feather.

Trust Aramis to not just simply make love to a woman, but instead to draw it out into some ridiculous game.

He's still not sure why he's here.

He's also still hard as stone beneath his breeches.

Ninon looks up at him, something challenging in her eyes that he hopes isn't quite crossing over into mockery. "For someone who readily agreed to something so scandalous, monsieur, you're proving decidedly reticent."

Aramis smiles smugly up from where he's kneeling between Ninon's spread thighs, in a way that Athos finds distinctly infuriating. "Yes, come on, Athos, you're letting the side down."

 _Which side is that?_ Athos thinks, and _I was trying to pretend you're not here._

 _He_ shouldn't even be here.

But.

He imagines being here _without_ Aramis; and compared to the idea of himself and Ninon alone together in this bed, his brother's presence is suddenly, strangely reassuring.

With Aramis to guard him, there's no danger of her cracking open his husk of a heart, drinking the sweet nectar that still flows there, deep within.

He knows he will never love again; he's sworn it. But here, like this, for the first time since he stopped being Olivier de la Fère and became Athos, he can see allowing himself to feel pleasure.

Holding his breath, he strokes his thumb along Ninon's jaw, running it over her bottom lip, just getting used to the idea when she says, firmly, and distinctly, "Wait."

He freezes, wondering immediately what's wrong.

Then he realises she's smiling.

"Aramis, you'll find several pairs of gloves in the vanity behind you. I want you two to put them on."

Athos frowns, wonders where this is going as he watches Aramis fling his hat carelessly to one side (in a movement which would convince anyone who knew him less well that he didn't care for the thing at all), before standing and turning to open the drawer there, tossing Athos a pair of gloves with a knowing smile that implies he really is the only one who's not been let in on the secret.

The gloves are a midnight-blue velvet.

Aramis climbs back onto the bed, pulling on and fastening his own pair of gloves, blood-red, in what appears to be silk.

Athos stares at the blue gloves again, turning them over in his hands, trying to work out Ninon's intention.

Then movement draws his eye again as Aramis takes one of her feet in his gloved hand and runs a finger deliberately along the arch of her foot, making her spasm in delight.

 _Ah_.

It was Aramis himself, many years past, who likened a lady's desire to building a fire in one's hearth: the better-laid it is, Athos remembers, the more brightly it burns.

Athos pulls the gloves on, noting the fine workmanship, fastening the mother-of-pearl buttons at the cuffs. He brushes the back of his velvet-clad hand lightly down Ninon's neck, and is rewarded as her breath hitches.

The warm expression of approval he gets from Aramis is decidedly unexpected.

"These are fine gloves, madame," Aramis says conversationally, echoing Athos' earlier thoughts, as Athos watches him stroke his hands diligently all over Ninon's lower legs and feet. Athos' own hands caress her shoulders and upper arms, her collarbone, avoiding dipping any lower for now. "It seems we agree that there are few things more exquisite than the feeling of sensuous fabrics against skin."

"I hope you would not think me spoiled for my appreciation of luxury," Ninon replies immediately, in a voice that suggests she actually couldn't care less what either of them might think.

"Luxury is so called because it is by nature desirable rather than functional, _non_?" Aramis shoots back, the tone of self-satisfaction one that Athos is well familiar with. "I believe that no life is fully lived without an appreciation of the beautiful for its own sake."

The only thing that stops Athos actually rolling his eyes is the high likelihood of Ninon seeing it. He finds Aramis' supposed way with women difficult to believe, if this is how he converses with them – unless, of course, they are hopeless fools for flattery all.

Ninon, by contrast, is the only woman he's ever met who seems to be as cynical as he is. "Such a bohemian sentiment, monsieur, couched in very fine rhetoric," she replies archly. "But you ought to put that clever tongue of yours to even better use."

Even after spending an evening with her, Athos is still surprised as to just _how_ brazen she can be.

"All in good time," Aramis says smoothly, appearing to suffer from no such shock to his sense of propriety, if he even has one. "But first, I would request that you turn onto your front. With such a remarkable woman as yourself, I wish to make sure I fully savour the experience."

Ninon looks back up at Athos, raising an eyebrow. "The consummate flatterer and the strong silent type; what did I do to deserve this?"

The question appears to be rhetorical, so Athos lets the curl of his lip be his only answer.

Ninon rolls over onto her front then, the sudden shift of her head in his lap sending a pulse of desire through his cock that has his neck heating; and he bites his lip, wanting nothing less than to betray the state he's in.

His gaze settles again on Aramis, who's risen from the bed, and should _not_ be looking him straight in the eye while pushing his own breeches down.

 _Surely not_. There are things one doesn't expect, not even from Aramis.

Athos blinks, folds his legs under him to kneel beside Ninon, pushing her hair off her neck and feathering his velvet-clad fingers down the newly revealed skin there, watching her shudder with pleasure, trying to banish from his mind all thoughts of the hardness he glimpsed outlined beneath Aramis' smallclothes. It's a physical reaction, it's overcome them both, and should be no surprise in the circumstances.

He doesn't need to concern himself with his brother's part in this, assign unnecessary meaning to the fact that they're here together; he just needs to focus on pleasuring Ninon. That's what they're both here to do, after all, and he concentrates on tracing the planes of her shoulders under his hands, her spine, the faint indentations of ribs along her sides; listening to her heavy breathing, feeling her hand clutch at his shirttails.  

The two of them work together almost unconsciously: Aramis' silken hands on the backs of Ninon's thighs, moving upwards in leisurely circles, coming closer and closer to her sex before darting away at the last moment, tracing reverently over her buttocks; Athos' velvet hands playing the ridges of her spine like the keys of a harpsichord; and when they meet in the small of her back, he startles as one of Aramis' hands comes to rest for a second on top of his own.

There's a questioning warmth in Aramis' dark eyes, and Athos is well-familiar with this expression; sees it whenever he is near-blind drunk and despairing, when he retreats so far into himself that he loses all sight of a way back out into the world. It's an expression that asks for confirmation, not that he's alright – because Aramis understands that it's not about being alright, not at all – but that he's not in deeper than he can handle, that his head's still above water.

Athos holds his gaze and nods in reply, and Aramis leans forward and brushes his lips against Athos' cheek.

Something blooms in Athos' chest, without warning: it's not desire, no, but it's some sort of love, that feeds off the care Aramis is showing him, always shows him; and where he had been wrong-footed only minutes before, he finds himself again reassured.

 _This is why he's known for his love_ , Athos realises, knowing the look on his own face is something soft and startled which Aramis can no doubt interpret all too well, but not quite being able to suppress it.

It's Aramis who looks away first, in the end, ducking his head to hide what might be a fond smile; and they both resume their ministrations, bolder, fiercer now in their touch.

"Mmm," Ninon hums appreciatively, arching as she turns onto her back again; luxuriating under their touch like a cat in the sun, Athos thinks, and there's something feline in the way she rubs her cheek against the fur under her head. "You two are truly delightful."

Sensing that the moment has come, Athos strokes one hand along what he believes to be the most sensitive part of her neck, moving the other to gently cup her breast.

At the first pressure of his hand something changes in Ninon's eyes, an aloofness lost; she looks open and wanting all of a sudden, and Athos squeezes her breast slowly and carefully, dragging the velvet across her skin, skirting its circumference before moving to its peak, caressing her nipple as she stares at him, open-mouthed. It's the most intense connection he's felt in years.

"Ah!" she gasps suddenly, more forcefully than he was expecting, eyes falling shut for a moment; and he looks across to see that while he was so caught up in her eyes, Aramis has spread her thighs wide apart with his silken-gloved hands and now his mouth is on her sex, kissing and licking at her folds.

Athos can't watch: it's too much, his cock already pressing insistently at his smalls, pulse thundering as though the slightest touch will end him; and for the first time he wishes it hadn't been so long since he's lain with someone. Instead he bites down on the inside of his cheek, one hand caressing Ninon's jaw and the other moving between her breasts, trying not to listen too closely to her regular gasps of pleasure, as he wills himself to calm.

Years of self-discipline have not gone to waste, at least; and once his need has finally diminished to manageable levels, he risks a glance down Ninon's body again, where Aramis has divested himself of his right-hand glove and is now pushing his fingers rhythmically inside her, still licking her sex, his expression utterly focused on the pleasure he's giving.

Athos moves both hands to her breasts now, lightly pinching her nipples, caressing the flesh as he imagines lying between her legs himself. She would taste like the sea, the ridges inside her sheath like coral, its spongy walls pressing close as he sought and found the angle, the place that would make her come apart around him.

"Oh!" Ninon suddenly squeals in surprise, jolting him from his reverie, laughter bubbling up in her throat a moment later. "Oh, you filthy man!"

Athos looks reflexively at Aramis, but sees nothing unusual; just earns himself an infuriating wink as Aramis holds out his gloved hand. "Pass me that oil, would you?"

Athos complies, frowning, trying to work out what Aramis could possibly need oil for. It's not as if Ninon isn't wet enough, surely, when he can smell her arousal from here…?

Aramis sits up for a moment, pulling the one remaining glove off with his teeth as he oils up his first two fingers and thumb, before twisting his hand and pushing back in the other way around, leaning forward onto his other elbow so he can mouth at her sex once more.

Whatever the purpose of the oil is, its effect on Ninon is immediate. She hisses through her teeth at the first slow thrust of Aramis' fingers, her eyes falling shut in pleasure; and as his hand starts to move regularly back and forth, her moans become cries – and Athos recognises the signs, pinching her nipples harder, rolling the buds between his fingers – and she arches and groans in crescendo, shuddering under their touch as her orgasm rocks through her.

As the last aftershocks die away and her body settles again, Athos brings his still-gloved hand to caress her jaw, pressing his thumb briefly to her lip, amazed by how willing she is to make herself so vulnerable to them both. Her eyes fall open at his touch, and despite the serenity of her expression he reads surprise there, and not a little sympathy; and he looks away, embarrassed by how transparent he seems to have become.

Her smile brightens as she looks over to Aramis; and Athos follows her gaze to see his comrade pushing himself up to a sitting position once more, in shirt and smalls with his legs folded up on the bed, moustache and beard glistening with her wetness, and smiling as though he's just found his true vocation.

"You, monsieur, are full of surprises."

Aramis inclines his head. "And you, madame, were less surprised than you would have me believe."

She laughs at that, her characteristic worldliness returned. " _Touché_."

For the second time this evening, Athos is shut out of a secret the two of them seem to share. It's getting distinctly old.

"Now, what would you have us do to please you further?" Aramis asks, as smoothly as if he was born to it; and Athos is just steeling himself to announce his intention to retire for the evening, when Ninon's reply stops him in his tracks.

"I'd have both of you.

"If that's acceptable to you as well, of course, monsieur," she adds quickly, looking at Athos, suddenly less sure of herself.

His gaze flickers between the two of them in frustrated confusion, because both of them what –

Then suddenly, it all clicks into place.

What she means by that; and where exactly Aramis' fingers must have been.

Ninon's startled laughter, surprised but not disapproving, calling him filthy; Aramis oiling his fingers; the awkward angle of his arm as he turned his hand round, elbow jutting outwards; and how had he not understood?

Athos' reaction is visceral: his heart thumping in his chest, face flushing as he looks between the two of them again, wild-eyed. Sodomising a woman – he'd never even have thought – but the three of them in one bed is hardly normal, is it – and as he imagines her pressed up between their bodies, oh God, the sheer _want_ is almost enough to deprive him of his reason entirely, and he presses the heel of his hand to his achingly-hard cock for a moment, can't help it.

"Athos?" Aramis asks carefully, looking as if he's handling a bomb that may go off at any moment.

He almost laughs. "God, yes," he replies, mouth dry. "But how do we –"

Aramis smiles, as if it's that simple. "You lie on your back, the lady on top of you, facing, and me on top of the lady."

"Alright," Athos says, hardly believing the sound of his own voice coming from his mouth.

He needs to get undressed, then.

He takes off the gloves, goes to move – but is stopped by Aramis' hand on his shoulder as his comrade clambers over to his side, before leaning over to kiss Ninon deeply and thoroughly, his hand finding Athos' own, and squeezing his fingers.

Athos sucks in a breath, for a moment overwhelmed by his brother's thoughtfulness, his consideration.

When it becomes his turn, Athos pours all his conflicted emotions out through his mouth and into Ninon's, looping one arm round her waist and pulling her into him as much as he can, never letting go of Aramis' hand all the while.

He can taste her sex, faint on her own tongue.

"Clothes off, then?" Aramis asks, as he finally releases Ninon.

He's talking to Athos, but she's the one who replies. "I look forward to the view."

Athos stands, pulls off his shirt and breeches with little ceremony, conscious of her assessing gaze flickering between the two of them all the while. His erection wilts a little under her scrutiny, which he's actually glad of, expecting that what they're going to do next will be nothing if not intense.

"Athos." He turns to see Aramis, also down to his smallclothes, holding a sheath out to him.

"Thank you," he replies, glad that one of them at least has come well-prepared. Though why Aramis is carrying more than one sheath is not a thought he really wants to explore right now.

He strips himself fully naked and ties the sheath on, deliberately ignoring the feeling of being watched.

The moment he's ready, a small, strong hand clasps his wrist and pulls him forward onto the bed again.

"Gorgeous, Monsieur Athos," Ninon says into his ear, before placing a kiss to his jaw, her hands caressing his waist. "So handsome. And my spies tell me you've been keeping this fine body all to yourself for so long. What a waste."

"I like to think my corrupting influence is finally having an effect," Aramis comments, the mattress sinking as he kneels behind Ninon, hands coming round under her armpits to fondle her breasts.

Ninon smiles with pleasure and leans momentarily against Aramis' chest. "Will he make a fellow libertine of you yet?"

"Something like that," Athos replies, amused, as she places her hands on his shoulders and pushes him gently yet firmly into the pile of pillows and furs, and he stretches his legs out until he's lying back, waiting for her.

Two pairs of appraising eyes are on him, naked and relaxed; both of them admiring openly as they sit together, and there is a moment where he meets both their eyes in turn and nobody looks away.

There is no modesty among soldiers; and Athos decides that whatever the meaning behind Aramis' frank gaze, right now, he doesn't object.

At Aramis' encouragement, Ninon straddles Athos' thighs, not yet guiding him inside her, falling forward to rest her head against his chest as Aramis oils up his fingers again and moves his hand down behind her back, out of Athos' sight. He puts his hands protectively on her shoulders, then Ninon groans and braces herself as Aramis pushes his fingers inside her; and Athos finds he can't look away from his brother's face.

It's not desire he feels, he's sure of it; he doesn't long to touch Aramis, wouldn't bed him alone. But what there is between them is a startling intimacy, a seemingly-unbreakable bond, stronger even than what he feels for Ninon in this moment.

It's not something he will lose himself in, like he lost himself with Anne, but something that strengthens him, strengthens them both.

"Ninon, I think you're ready," Aramis says softly, his other hand reaching forward to brush the back of her neck; and Athos wonders just how long he has been staring.

"I agree," Ninon replies, pushing herself up from Athos' chest, her expression once again open, unguarded desire. She reaches between her own legs to take Athos in hand, and then hesitates, looking reflexively to Aramis.

"Lower yourself onto him, and then hold still while I enter you," Aramis instructs; and Athos bites his cheek again as she slowly pushes onto him, forces his need down and down into something manageable. It's so long since he's been inside a woman, it feels like a homecoming, and he can't imagine now how he ever went without for so long.

Inch by inch, Ninon sheathes him up to the hilt; and then just waits. Athos can feel her thighs trembling with excitement, and he pushes himself up by the elbows and kisses her.

Aramis kneels up behind Ninon, also pressing his legs either side of Athos'. "Lean forward," he says, pushing Ninon gently on her back; and Athos drops himself back down to the mattress as she leans over him, cupping her breasts in his hands and just waiting, both of them tense.

When Aramis pushes the head of his cock inside her, Athos hadn't expected he would _feel_ him, the membrane separating the two of them so thin, the space for his own cock contracting, everything becoming almost impossibly hot and tight. Ninon moans, long, low and almost pained, as Aramis eases himself slowly and carefully inside, and Athos feels every inch of his advance.

He moves his hand to cover Aramis' where it rests on Ninon's waist.

"We're going to keep still," Aramis says, voice sounding more strained than Athos has ever heard it, "and you should move on us when you're ready, Ninon."

"Alright," she replies breathily, lifting up and pressing back against them; they're tiny thrusts really, barely an inch, but it's enough, it's more than enough, glorious hot, tight, shifting pressure; and he wonders what it's like for Aramis, what it's like for her, if they both feel as he does that this pleasure will truly shatter them.

Nobody lasts long; Ninon is shaking and gasping almost as soon as she begins to move, sweat forming on her brow, and as she wails and clenches around them Athos loses all semblance of control, clutching her waist and Aramis' hand even tighter and he's coming hard, hard, the equally masculine groan from behind her showing that Aramis has lasted no longer.

Ninon collapses back against Athos' chest, and he brushes the sweat-damp hair from her forehead, before placing his lips there for a moment, both of them still breathing heavily.

Ninon hisses again as Athos feels Aramis slide out of her, and as he looks up at him, before he can think of what to do or say, Aramis presses a brief, chaste kiss to the corner of Athos' mouth.

For a moment, he feels nothing but blank surprise; though this is hardly an imposition, he supposes, not after what they've just done together. And as Aramis watches him cautiously, Athos realises that this is Aramis laying bare his own vulnerability, and inviting Athos to do with it what he will.

And what he wants, he realises, is to be Aramis' home, his place of safety; and so he does nothing at all, simply smiles.

He realises that Ninon is watching them, surprise sharp in her expression. "Are you two lovers, then?"

"No," Athos replies; and thinks for a second how to explain the two of them, and their kind of love. "But… we've seen the worst of each other."

Aramis beams at him, and Athos knows it was the right answer. "And the best."

 


End file.
